The Long Road Home Part 33

THE SKY HAD long since darkened and the clouds overhead were transformed into battleships of gray and black. They sat in readiness, an armada of awesome proportions with an unpredictable captain at the helm. C.W. stood alone in the fields. Hands on hips, he screwed up his nose and sniffed, slowly turning his head from side to side. Moisture was in the air; he felt it on his face and in his bones. A cool, heavy presence, laden with a whiff of snow.

In the distance, the bleating of ewes echoed against the mountains and floated back to him. Its sweet familiarity sang across the pastoral scene like the hypnotic song of the sirens. How good it felt to be back home.

Behind him, the sound of heavy footfalls broke his concentration. Turning, he saw a shadowed form approach with a wide, swinging gait. It could only be Seth.

"Glad you're back, son," he called.

C.W. met up with him and shook his hand with strength and warmth. "Strange night," he said, returning his gaze to the sky.

"You feel it too, huh? I've lived through many an odd season, but I ain't seen the likes of this before." Seth scratched the hair under his cap. "Heard tell of a freak snowstorm in Grandpa Wade's time. October, same as this. Never heard of another." Worry creased his brow as he looked again at the sky.

C.W. continued the sky watch. The hills were cloaked in suspenseful silence. Far off in the northern pasture he heard a low, worried bleat. "Is that Brutus?"

Seth chuckled and nodded his head. "You old cow!" he called out to the teaser ram with affection. Seth took one last sweep of the threatening sky, listening to the rumble with a frown.

"Best go get the kids, son," he said, scratching his bristle. "Gotta sh.o.r.e up the hatches. They're at the Harvest Contra Dance in Clarendon Springs. They won't like it none, but h.e.l.l, what's one dance more or less in the face of a storm?"

"You be sure and wait," replied C.W. "The boys and I will round up the ewes to the lower pasture."

"So who's givin' the orders around here?"

C.W. smiled down at the scowling, toothless face. "I'm not giving orders. But with your heart, you have no business up in the north pasture. Now please, go on back and sit tight. I'll go get the kids and come right back. We'll get it done."

Seth grunted and wiped his lips with his palm. He was about to leave when he turned back and asked, "You find your field, son?"

C.W. nodded. "Yes, sir. I believe I did."

"Good," Seth replied. After a moment, he hitched his pants up a notch and, head down, added, "You oughta talk to that girl of yours, son. She needs to know you more to love you more. She's a good'un. And seems only fair."

"I will, sir. Thank you." There was much more C.W. would have liked to say, sentimental words of grat.i.tude and affection. Like a son would say to a father. But of course he didn't. Men didn't speak such things. He could only nod his head and tighten his lips, letting his eyes translate the message of his heart.

Seth did likewise.

Shifting his weight, Seth pointed toward his house and began the trek home. C.W.'s last sight of him was his rocking gait steadily plowing through the waving fields like a barge headed toward the light.

Over the stairwell leading to the church bas.e.m.e.nt, a long banner announced in orange and brown: Harvest Dance Benefit/Wallingford Rescue Squad. C.W. followed the music down the rear stairs to where the moist heat of forty twirling, laughing couples enveloped him. On one side of the room, long tables were laden with coffee, soda, homemade brownies, cakes, and cookies. On the other side of the room sat two fiddlers, a piano player, an accordion player, and a ba.s.s player.

The rest of the room was filled with long lines of couples. Facing west, the women glowed in the moist heat, their eyes sparkling in antic.i.p.ation. C.W. spotted Nora easily. Dressed in a long flared skirt of green cotton and a white ruffled blouse, she was shyly, even flirtatiously, swishing back and forth in time to the music.

C.W. automatically looked four steps to the east to check out the man who dared partner his Nora. He was as broad and tall as Paul Bunyan, and ruggedly handsome with his starched white collar unb.u.t.toned and his sleeves rolled up over muscled forearms. The man's eyes were firmly on Nora as he pounded his boot and clapped his hands, obviously eager to have east meet west.

For the first time in his life, C.W. understood jealousy. It cut through reason like a knife, leaving him irrationally angry and decidedly possessive.

The intro sounded and the caller sang out his prompt, "All forward, bow and back!"

Hands touched, feet shuffled, and the dancers moved through the phrases. C.W.'s foot began to tap, but not because of the heady rhythm.

A couple came dancing down the long line toward him. When they reached the end of the line, they separated and marched back up the outside. Next Junior and some red-haired, freckled beauty promenaded. When they reached the end of the line, C.W. tapped Junior's shoulder and called him out. Not far behind, Frank and Katie Beth danced down the line, flushed with happiness and clearly the Young Couple in Love. Frank rolled his eyes as he was waved over.

C.W.'s smile froze, however, when Nora and her Paul Bunyan sashayed down the line. The man's eyes were as tightly fixed on Nora's face as his hands were around her waist. Did she have to smile up at that clown so fetchingly? C.W. thought bitterly. Jealousy flared anew, then consumed him as he watched the eyes of each man she pa.s.sed follow her down the line.

C.W. scowled as he pa.s.sed through the crowd with an undaunted gait, meeting up with Nora as she reached the end of the line of dancers. He grabbed her arm with a possessive yank and firmly planted his own hands upon her waist.

"Come on," he said harshly. "Let's go."

Nora's face darkened. She backed up, resisting his direction.

"Who do you think you are, treating me like this? I'm not going anywhere. You go! You're good at that."

He swung around to face her. "I'm back now. And you can tell Paul Bunyan over there to keep his hands off."

"Tell who what?" she sputtered, straining to keep her voice low. "Listen, I'm having a very nice time, or at least I was. And as for keeping hands off..." Nora's eyes sparkled in defiance as she pointedly looked at his hands on her waist.

C.W. did not move them, but from the corner of his eye he spotted Nora's enormous partner shouldering his way toward them, sporting an enormous scowl. Instinctively, C.W.'s grip tightened around Nora's waist.

"This guy botherin' you?" the man said, eyes on C.W.

"Beat it, Paul," C.W. ground out, not taking his eyes off Nora.

Nora opened her mouth to speak, but the man had already stepped forward and pushed C.W.'s shoulder back.

C.W. slowly turned his head toward the man with a deadliness Nora had never seen in him before. His shoulders were drawn, like a big cat's, about to pounce. Her partner noticed it too, and though taller than C.W. by a few inches, he backed off one step, then stood his ground.

She jumped between them, swinging her head from one to the other. "Stop it. I forbid it."

The tension began attracting curious looks. "We're creating a scene," Nora muttered. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she turned toward her partner and said, "Thank you, Andy. I'm fine. I have to go." The fight in his eyes smoldered and, with a shrug of disappointment, he turned away.

Nora's gaze swept the crowd. She had handled the stares of curious gossips for years, and many far more shrewish than any in this crowd. Gradually, the music resumed and the couples returned to their food.

"Look," C.W. said, checking his anger. "There's a storm coming. Seth wants us all back, p.r.o.nto. Where's Esther?"

"She's over there, fightin' with John Henry," said Junior as if this happened every day.

"Go get her, Nora, and meet us at the farm. Come on, guys." He turned abruptly and marched out of the room, Frank and Junior following in single file behind him.

Nora had enough of his imperious tone but sensed the impending emergency. She'd settle this with C.W. later. Now it was time to be cool and follow orders. She turned and rushed through the crowd to gather Esther. She found her, alone, leaning against the rear wall with one knee bent, her foot against the wall, and her arms across her chest. Esther's cheeks were as red as her hair and her eyes flashed with angry tears.

Nora delivered the message quickly. Esther responded with equal alacrity, pushing off from the wall and jogging to the door. Nora had to run to keep up, hearing dancers mutter something about "pushy out-of-towners" in her wake. She kept plowing through the crowd, up the stairs and out the door.

The snow hit her face like a thousand minuscule s...o...b..a.l.l.s. The silent, heavy flakes blurred her vision, disorienting her. Around her, a white blanket, already over an inch thick and sticking, covered the ground, the bushes, and the cars, altering them to various-sized humps of white.

Where did it come from, she wondered in a panic? Where was everyone? She called out but her voice got lost in the deafening stillness of the heavy flake-filled air. Suddenly she felt an arm around her, pushing her back.

"Get inside! Hurry!"

She recognized C.W.'s voice and immediately turned and hurried down the stairs.

Within minutes, C.W. stopped the music and alerted the crowd of the storm. With practiced alacrity, farmers, their wives, and their children hastily grabbed their coats and hustled like seasoned veterans toward their cars, pickups, and home. The refreshments were hurriedly scooped up amid worried comments: "Freak storm!"

"Never seen it like this," "Could be trouble."

C.W. grabbed Nora's elbow and pulled her aside to the dark corridor leading to the restrooms. His jaw was set, his mouth was drawn tight, and a look of no-nonsense shone.

"Listen, Nora," he said in low tones. "I want you to be prepared. A storm like this could dump a foot or two of wet, heavy snow in no time. The leaves will catch the weight and bring down branches and tops. The sheep are far off in the north pasture, and surrounded by all those trees, they may be hard to get out. Especially in the dark." He took a deep breath. "There may be losses. Can you handle that?"

It hurt that he had to ask. "Of course," she replied tersely and moved to go. He held her back and leaned closer to her in the darkness.

"Nora, no more games. Life is a tough enough game without adding to it. We're either together in this fight or not, but let's decide where we stand before we leave this place."

His closeness was suffocating. The fur of his sheepskin coat brushed her face, and she recognized the sweet smell of his skin and soap. They had shared so much in the past few months: working with the sheep, struggling to balance the books, even daring to envision a future together. He had been there for her when she needed a friend. She wouldn't allow whimsy to destroy all the trust they had struggled so hard to build.

"I'm with you," she whispered.

In a sudden swoop, he crushed her body against the wall and drew her mouth to his. The kiss was as brief as it was pa.s.sionate. They clung tightly for one moment. For one moment they offered what the other lacked, supported each other's weakness, accepted each other's fears, and sh.o.r.ed up their confidences. In the darkness, against the pale green tiles of the church bas.e.m.e.nt, with the snowstorm gaining strength outdoors, time stood still as she sealed this precious pact with C.W.

Esther called for them in a shrill, anxious voice. C.W. pulled back and guided Nora to the hall where Frank and Junior were stomping their feet and clapping their hands to an inner music of anxiety.

"Reverend Wilc.o.x got a call," Esther cried, the freckles on her face standing out against her pale skin. "Pa up and went out for the sheep. Alone."

"Let's go!" shouted Frank, his face grim.

Nora ran with the pack, slamming open the church door and slipping on the slick pavement toward Frank's Impala. The storm had picked up and the wind howled so loudly, she had to cup her ear to hear C.W. shout, "Meet you at the farm. Take it real slow!"

She squeezed in beside Esther upon the torn, smoke-smelling seats. As she closed the door, she saw C.W. pull out of the lot in his four-wheel-drive Jeep, taking the boys ahead. Esther gunned the engine and tried to follow, but the Impala started to skid on the wet, greasy snow, forcing her to slow to a crawl.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n bald tires. Who'd have thought we'd need G.o.dd.a.m.n snow tires tonight!"

Someone pounded the roof of the car and peered through the driver's window. "Stop!"

Through the snow, Nora saw John Henry's anxious face.

Esther stopped and John Henry swung open the rear door and jumped in.

"I heard. Let's go."

Emotion charged the air between John Henry and Esther, but neither of them spoke. Esther clenched the wheel, gunned the engine, but crept forward slowly, guiding the wheels over the slick streets.

Nora's gaze focused on the Jeep's two red brake lights as they disappeared into the storm. Here and there the wheels spun and Nora's knuckles whitened, but they continued on at their snail's pace, not speaking, each praying that they'd make it home-fast. That the storm would end-soon. And most of all, that Seth would get his b.u.t.t out of the fields and back in the warmth of his home.

Seth reached the northern pasture before the storm turned mean. No sooner had he left the road and trudged past the windbreak of pines than the sky opened up and dumped its load of heavy, wet snow. He could barely see his hand in front of him, but he raised it anyway in a clenched fist at the sky. "That was a cheap trick, you old b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

He looked around and saw how the snow was already clinging to the branches and covering the black dirt with a coat of white. The temperature was dropping by the moment, and the wind was picking up the snow and whipping it into his face. He bent his head and closed his mouth. While raising his collar, he lifted his feet to check how wet they were getting. He couldn't see much over his girth, but already his toes were tingling.

"Dang it all. I could'a took two minutes to put on my boots. Well, pay the piper, you old fool," he scolded himself. He shook the snow off his feet with mulish kicks. In retreat, he headed back toward the road, muttering obscenities about his own stupidity. Each step through the thickening snow was harder than the next and his breathing became more labored. Steady as she goes, he told himself, and he paused here and there to catch his breath. At one stop, he heard the frantic bleating of a sheep. The sound was low and gravelly, and he recognized it immediately as Brutus's.

"You found your way out, you old cow!" he shouted with a measure of surprise and pride. Then he thought of his ewes in the northern pasture, and his smile fell. If this snow kept up, all the trees and branches'd be bent over with snow. They'd be corralled up there, unable to roam back to the barn, unable to graze. They could all die.

Seth looked back toward the road. A few feet more and he'd be out of the field. His heart was chugging like a locomotive pulling a full freight, and sweat was dripping down his back. He knew the thing to do was wait for C.W. and his sons to get here. He just had to get to the road, then it'd be downhill all the way home.

"Baaaaaaaa," came the call from Brutus. Farther away he heard the feminine, higher-pitched bleats of ewes.

Seth shook his head and made up his mind. This was his battle and he meant to fight it. There wasn't time to wait for C.W. and the boys to get back. His girls had to be freed before the trees started falling. They were up there because of his decision and he'd be the one to get them out. Same as he'd always done.

"I'm comin', Brutus," he called. "It's up to you to settle the ladies." He turned his back to the road and headed up into the northern pasture.

He wasn't stupid, he took it slow. Trudge, trudge, trudge, and it was time to take a breather. The storm fought him each step of the way, throwing snow in his face, blowing away his scarf and blanketing the moon and the stars. Trudge, trudge, and he heard Brutus calling nearby. Encouraged, he pressed on, walking uphill against the wind toward an area of thick brush. It was so steep here he had to grab tree branches to steady himself against the incline. A branch snapped and sc.r.a.ped his face.

"Where are ya?" he called out, winded. "Come here, you old woman or are you gonna make me fetch you in that jungle?" His heart was pounding painfully. He brought his hand up to rub the soreness beneath the folds of fabric and fat. Around him, the wind gusted, catching him full in the face and causing him to swallow in the cold. He couldn't catch his breath! A stir of panic brought up the hairs on his neck. Despite the cold, he broke out in a sweat.

"Brutus!" he shouted, "if you ain't one stubborn old..."

In one agonizing, bursting sensation, death strangled his heart and radiated down the left arm. Seth blindly reached out in the darkness, took one final step forward, then collapsed upon the earth. Gasping, his face against the ice, he clawed through the several inches of snow with his bare hand, down to the black soil beneath. Clenching a fistful, he brought it up to his heart and held it there, close, while he suffered his last spasm.

Then Seth lay still, at peace. The earth at his heart and in his nails.

In somber silence Nora and C.W. searched for Seth in the blizzard. Tied at the waist with rope, they headed toward the northern pasture, where the sound of frantic bleating could be heard over the roar of the storm. In the distance they saw the lanterns of the Johnstons bobbing in the dark mountains like a string of holiday lights.

Nora stopped and pulled the rope. "C.W., listen. That bleating is coming from over there."

C.W. closed his eyes and moved his hat from his ear. "That's Brutus. Let's go." Holding her hand tight, he guided her at a steady pace up the steep incline.

Even with C.W.'s help, it was a difficult climb. With each awkward step her ominous feeling of dread increased. Nora's instincts alerted her to what lay ahead in the quiet darkness, beyond the brush, pierced only by the occasional guttural cry from the teaser.

As they approached the pasture, Nora balked. The atmosphere of death was overwhelming. "C.W.," she said, pulling back.

He turned to meet her gaze. Snow and ice hung from the rim of his hat and littered his reddened face. From beneath his brows, C.W.'s eyes shone bright blue with pain.

"I know. I'll go."

Nora shook her head and raised the rope that bound them. Squaring her shoulders, she took a step forward, even as waves of fear swept over her.

"Oh, Seth," was all she could say when she found him, sleeping in the fields, covered with a white blanket of snow. Brutus stood beside him, shaking his head, nudging Seth's shoulder, searching for grain from the old shepherd who would not awaken.

Nora knelt beside him and gently brushed the snow from his face. He looked peaceful, she thought. Then she saw the earth in his nails, and with a trembling lip, she knew she'd carry that image in her heart for the rest of her life.

"Sleep well," she whispered before placing a kiss upon his cold cheek.

Turning slowly, she rose and moved toward C.W. The stark pain on his face arrested her advance. He stood, ramrod straight, with his hat clutched in his fists. Snow gathered on his head and ears without notice.

"We must get help," she said, reaching out for his hand.

He did not seem to hear her but stood still, save for an occasional twitch at the corners of his mouth and the quivering of his pupils.

"C.W.?" she called.